The lost one
by Natz5
Summary: He doesn't know who he is or why he's there. The only thing he does know is that people are looking for him... and not all of them are his friends.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yay! Another story! Another story about Morgan! I have to admit, I'm rather mean to Morgan... but he's awesome so he can take it. :D I am still going with my other story as well so don't worry but I had this idea so yeah... Here it is! Enjoy! oh and review!!!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal minds.... If only...**

The stench was almost too much for him as he stumbled down the alleyway. Rubbish scattered the ground as he leant heavily against a dumpster. As he fought to stay conscious he saw an open door. He could hear the busy sounds of a restaurant kitchen. He made his way over there, holding his side and trying to ignore the blood that ran down his face. He knew some of it wasn't his but the more he tried to concentrate on whose it was, the less he could remember about anything. He fell to his knees at the entrance to the kitchen, his vision blurring, the blessed darkness drawing him in. As he collapsed onto the floor and people began running around, ringing for an ambulance, his last thoughts were of a women's face. She was smiling and he knew it was at him. She had blond hair that had streaks of green in it. Her hair was pulled into two messy pigtails at the base of her head. She was wearing glasses, red ones that seemed to make her smile even more beautiful.

"Baby Girl…" he whispered before his hold on the world was lost.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok that starter was very short but don't worry, they get longer. And more exciting too. Ah poor Morgan.**

**Anyway Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal minds.**

**

* * *

**

There was someone talking just off to the side of him. They didn't sound stressed or hurt but rather calm. A second voice joined the first and as he listened he could hear the tense tone to their voice. They were in a hurry. As the effects of whatever he was on began to overpower him again he realised he wasn't where he was supposed to be, this wasn't home. But before he could think about it further he was asleep again

The next time he woke up he managed to open his eyes only to shut them immediately when the light hit them. He moaned and felt the dryness of his throat. He lay there for a moment, thinking about the last time he had woken up. That same thought was still running through his mind. This wasn't home. Where was he? At that moment he heard someone enter the room.

"Oh you're awake! That's great."

There was a slight rustle then a hand was placed on his forehead.

"Good your fever has gone down a little. Now I want you to open your eyes for me."

"Hurts" he managed to mumble.

"It's alright. I've shut the blinds. It won't be as bright. Now, can you open your eyes for me?"

He did as he was told, just wanting to get rid of this lady and her annoying questions. But he knew he had to hold on a little longer.

"Water" he said, his voice so hoarse he was surprised the women fussing around him managed to understand him.

A straw was put lightly in his mouth and the voice was back encouraging him to have small sips. He did as he was told and felt the water run slowly down his parched throat.

"Where am I?" he asked, focusing on the women beside him.

"You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

As he tried to recall something from his past, realisation hit him. He couldn't remember anything about himself.

He began to panic as he tried to remember something, anything about who he was. The heart monitor that sat beside him beeped loudly and the women, who he now realised was a nurse, looked up in alarm.

"Hey, hey. Calm down ok? I'll go get the doctor and he can explain everything to you. Alright?"

He nodded, stunned into silence. What had happened to him to put him in hospital? He tried to take stock of his injuries. He could feel a bandage around his ribs and another around his stomach. He moved slightly and a pain shot up his side. He gritted his teeth in pain. Won't be trying that again in a hurry he thought bitterly. His head felt heavy and as he raised a hand to touch it he saw that two of his fingers on his left hand had been taped up. There was a bandage that was wrapped around his entire head. He used his hand to examine the bandages. It seemed to be thicker on the right side of his head. With a sigh he let his hand drop back onto the bed, forgetting the taped fingers. He winced in pain.

"Shit." He whispered.

A knocking on the door drew his eyes. A tall man with a balding head stood there. Going by the white coat he was wearing and the stethoscope draped around his neck he would have to say this was the doctor the nurse was talking about. The doctor stepped into the room and smiled at him.

"I have to say I'm happy to see you awake. I'm doctor Stenson and I've been looking after you this past week."

"I've been here for a week?" the astonishment was evident in his voice. He may not know anything about who he was but he knew that was a long time.

The doctor stood at the end of his bed and looked up from the chart in his hands.

"Yes you've been in a coma for the past six days. You've had to undergo some intensive surgery, so you're going to need your sleep, let your body reboot itself. The sedatives will be making you rather tired so I don't expect you to be awake for too long but we'll see how you go."

He couldn't help but give a loud yawn as the doctor talked. When he opened his eyes he saw the doctor smiling again.

"There you are. Anyway I'm sure you're eager to find out what's wrong with you so I'll get right down to it. Two of your fingers were broken as you can see; you have three cracked ribs on your right side which are healing nicely, a deep cut to your stomach which has been causing us with some problems. It's seems whatever you were cut with had been coated with a poison, which seems to be the result of your fever. We now have that under control and we are happy to report that it is coming down nicely. And finally your head."

He paused and looked at him in wonderment.

"You're very lucky to be alive. You were shot. The bullet grazed the side of your head. A little to the left and this could have ended a lot differently. Now, I want to ask you a few questions."

The doctor watched the man in the bed. He looked so confused but he didn't see a trace of fear on his face. Who is this man? And what has he been up to? The local police had run his face through all local data banks including missing persons and arrest records but nothing had turned up. His tattoos weren't gang affiliated and the only other distinguishing mark was a thin scar that ran down his right forearm and an old gunshot wound to his stomach that had healed a long time ago. The white bandages contrasted with the dark colour of his skin. He was quite tall and of a muscular build. He was obviously very fit. They had no idea who he was and all the leads had turned up dry. They needed the man to tell them who he was so they could contact someone.

"So, first off. How are you feeling?"

"Tired I guess." He croaked "And sore" he gave a small smile at that. "No surprise there."

"Yeah I suppose not. Do you remember your name?"

The man frowned as he thought.

"No… No I can't remember my name, my age, my birthday, where I live… nothing!"

"It's o.k. We are going to find out who you are and get you back home. I'm going to schedule you in to get a MRI, make sure everything is all sorted before you talk to the police."

The man in the bed just nodded. He didn't know what to do and this annoyed him. He knew he was used to doing things, always being on the go. The only problem was that he couldn't remember what those things were. He frowned, his frustration evident.

"Do you know why I can't remember anything? Is it because of me getting shot?"

"I do believe that's a part of it but also the stress of everything that has happened to you. Your body needs to repair it's self and that will take a bit of time. Right now our main concern is getting you fit. I believe your memory will come back to you slowly at first but as time goes by it will get easier."

He gave the man an encouraging smile.

"You are a very lucky man. You fought hard to survive."

The man nodded. "I think I have someone special waiting for me. I can see her face but nothing else…"

He sighed and thumped his uninjured hand on the bed in frustration.

"This is so annoying! Was there nothing on me when I was found? A wallet, a necklace… anything?"

The doctor looked uncomfortable and somehow he knew, just by looking at his behaviour that there was something.

"What was it?"

The doctor sighed.

"There wasn't any wallet or necklace unfortunately but… there was blood. Most of it was yours but some of it wasn't." He indicated the door with his head. "There's a guard at your door in case you… um try to escape." He smiled apologetically. "I tried telling them you were in no condition to go anywhere but they didn't listen. According to the local police you're a murder suspect."

The man's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Your kidding? So they have no idea who I am but they're already trying to pin a murder on me? Gotta love the system."

He frowned at that. "What city am I in?"

"Seattle"

A series of images flashed through his mind_. Him hugging a lady as he helped her out of a car, him holding a bomb, him standing with a group of people in front of a burnt bus._ He frowned as he remembered each of them. He had obviously been here before but doing what? Why was he looking at bombs? As he thought about that he realised he knew a lot about them. How to make them, how to disarm them and what kind of people used them. A voice ran through his head. _"Bombers are cowards. When confronted they will give themselves in."_

He realised the doctor was talking to him. He smiled apologetically before focusing completely on him.

"Yes as I was saying you do have a number of tattoos." Before he could continue he was interrupted by the man in the bed.

"Do they have anything to do with terrorists or gangs?"

The doctor was stunned for a second as he stared at him.

"Ah no not that I know of but the police will have more information when they arrive this afternoon. Now if you're not too tired I would like to take you to have your MRI now. Are you up to it?"

The man nodded, wincing slightly as he did.

"Alright then."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey look a new chapter... sorry it's taken so long but don't worry theres about three other chapters for me to add after this one so don't come hunt me down please.... hehehe**

**Anyway, enjoy and please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds etc. etc.**

The doctor was pleased to report that everything seemed to be going on track. He was well on his way to recovery. He just wished he could remember his name. Or something useful. As he lay in his bed trying hard to remember something there was a knocking at his door. He turned to look and found himself looking at two detectives. He didn't know how he knew they were detectives, it was just something he had started doing. He was able to read peoples expressions, their body language and if he spent a little bit of time with them, he could tell you about their lives to. He had been doing this since he had woken up. Whenever he wasn't asleep he would try to figure out what was going on with other people. He didn't know why he was doing this but it felt like something he did often. Almost like he profiled people.

At that thought another flashback consumed his mind. It was his own voice accompanied by another, the one who had spoken before.

"_Are you profiling me?"_

"…_Derek, you're in trouble…"_

He had a name… Derek… he turned back to the two men in the doorway, a smile on his face, the first true one since he had woken up.

"Sir, Can we come in?"

Derek nodded, indicating with his hand the two chairs beside his bed. He didn't tell them about his name straight away. Instincts kept him from doing so.

"My name is Detective Wakeman and this is Detective Gap. We're the detectives in charge of your case. Now as we understand you haven't been able to remember much about yourself. Is that right?"

He nodded. "I'm getting flashes but nothing useful."

"Alright. Now I'm going to ask you some question and hopefully this will help trigger some memories. You were found outside a restaurant called The Riverboat. Does that mean anything to you?"

Derek frowned as he thought.

"The Riverboat…"

_He was at a table talking to a man with a large burn scar down the left side of his face. They were alone but as he looked around he could see three men with guns standing at the doorway._

"_Now Mike, what brings you to my place of business? You know you're in a bad place with me after that last hit. He wasn't supposed to live!"_

"_I have information…"_

He sat in the bed, unsure of what to do. He was stunned. Was his name Derek or was it Mikey? And what had he been into? Bombs, hits, profiling people. They all seemed like bad news. He sounded like a terrorist or a mob man. He realised the two detectives were exchanging a look and he knew he had to say something.

"I think I remember my first name… Derek… but that's all I've got."

He sighed, letting his frustration show just enough to put them at ease. Best to let them figure out who Derek was while he worked on Mike.

"Alright then, Derek."

"What about this?"

Detective Gap pulled a small plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and held it up for Derek to see. Inside was a small book. On the cover was a picture of a boat, with The Riverboat written down the side. Derek just stared at it. He had a nagging feeling he had seen it before but no memory jumped out at him. He shook his head slightly.

"Nothing sorry."

"Alright then. We'll be back in a few days. We'll see what we can find on Derek. We want your permission to put your picture on the news, just a drawing and for your safety we'll say you died from your injuries. We want to find out who you are as much as you do."

He nodded.

"Do it."

The two detectives got up to leave.

"Thanks for your time Derek. We'll see you later. For your… safety, we're going to be keeping the guards at the door."

Derek snorted. His safety, they thought he was into something and he knew it. He needed to figure out what was going on now. The two detectives left with another nod of their heads. Derek didn't know what to make of this all. He moved slightly in the bed, trying to figure out how much movement he could get away with before the pain became too much. Almost immediately he gasped as it ran through his entire body. He breathed harshly but deeply, trying to get the nausea to go down. This was going to take awhile. He sighed in frustration. The Riverboat, that book, Mike, Derek, profiling, bombs. It all kept going through his mind, a loop of words. He clenched his uninjured hand in anger. Almost instantly he had another flash. He was in a squad room talking to a young man, who looked like he was just out of school. He instantly knew he respected this man and that he was a friend.

"_Reid, you were her hero."_

That was it. That name was important, he knew it.

"Reid…" he muttered to himself.

_He was standing with a group of people watching a group of computer screens. He couldn't believe how worried and disgusted he was. His friend was being tortured and there was nothing he could do. The anger began building when a man on the screen injected Reid with something. He closed his eyes in despair. They had to find him. Reid didn't deserve this._

He sat in silence, staring at the wall opposite him. It was silent in his room beside the occasional drip from the IV hooked up to his arm and the beeping of the heart monitor he still had to have. He was beginning to feel tired again. It had been two days since he had woken up and ever since he had been feeling extremely tired. It would just hit him and within minutes he would be asleep. He had been getting better at staying awake. Something was telling him it would be best if he was awake and alert as much as possible. He was mixed up in something very dangerous and if he wasn't careful the person or persons could come back and finish the job. Whatever he was into he thought bitterly, he should really think about changing careers.

Yawning loudly he lay back against the bed, grimacing at the pain it caused. He fell asleep in minutes. His final thought was of the mysterious blonde woman who he knew would be looking for him. The question was, why hadn't she found him?

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey people! look another chapter! Gasp the awesomeness... yeah...**

**Anyway enjoy and keep reviewing! Thanks to everyone who already have but don't stop there!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds :(**

* * *

They were sitting in the conference room again, the mood no better than last time. Ever since Morgan had died, the atmosphere, not just in the BAU but in the whole building had been dark. A motorcycle accident. It sounded almost silly when they thought back to all the close calls Morgan had been in before that. Ever time he kicked down a door, when he went chasing after a suspect, when he went looking for them without telling anyone. And that damn bomb in the ambulance. All the reckless yet brave things he had done and this is how he goes. It was exactly five months ago when they had got the call saying Derek was dead. It had hit them hard.

Reid remembered that day like it was yesterday. He, Prentiss, Garcia and JJ back from her maternity leave had been sitting in the bullpen talking and wondering where Morgan was when the news came.

_Reid was sitting at his desk, coffee in hand as he laughed at what Garcia had said. JJ was sitting on the corner of his desk while Prentiss sat at hers and Garcia was at Morgan's. She had spent the past ten minutes resisting the urge to go through his things and find out where he was._

"_Did he say anything to any of you?" she asked._

_He had promised to lend her a book and she wanted it now. With no case she had finally got bored of playing Tetris and was looking for something to do. JJ shook her head and Reid and Prentiss answered no. She sighed in frustration._

"_Garcia I'm sure he'll be here soon. He probably just overslept after a long night getting his groove thang going." Prentiss said with a laugh._

_Both Reid and JJ laughed and even Garcia smiled._

"_Is he still with Alicia?"_

"_I don't know. To be honest I haven't heard him talk about anyone in awhile. About three months…" Reid said with a frown. "Maybe he's met someone he wants to stay with…"_

_Reid, Prentiss and JJ turned to look at Garcia who had gone red and was currently examining Morgan's stapler like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She wouldn't look any of them in the eyes but they could see the smile there._

"_Oh my god! He has hasn't he? Who is it? Do we know her?"_

_Garcia smile got bigger at that._

"_You know her. But I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. He swore me to secrecy."_

_JJ and Prentiss had massive grins on their faces and Reid was sitting there shocked, his mouth open. There was a smile in his eyes though and he couldn't wait till he saw Morgan so he could tease him. When he looked at the others he realised it would be three against one and his grin got bigger. He couldn't wait._

_Above them Hotchner walked stunned into Rossi's office. He knocked on the door, an automatic action. Rossi looked up from the file he was reading and taking one look at Hotchner's face, was up and walking around his desk._

"_What is it Hotch?"_

"_There was an accident this morning. He's dead."_

_Hotchner ran his hand over his face; he couldn't believe what had happened. This wasn't right. Rossi looked at the white face of his friend and felt his blood run cold._

"_Who? Who's dead?"_

_Hotch lowered his eyes to the floor._

"_Derek. Derek's dead."_

"_Wh-What? Morgan's dead?"_

_Hotchner just nodded. He ran a hand over his face again and sighed. He had known Morgan for years had watched him grow and had come to respect and trust him._

"_I have to tell the others. I was wondering if you could come with me. They're going to be devastated."_

_Rossi nodded. "Of course I'll come."_

_He followed Hotchner out the door and towards the stairs. He could see the bullpen from here and as he looked he saw the rest of the team laughing at something. He hated that they had to come and break the happiness he saw there. He hadn't known Morgan for as long as the rest of the team but he knew from the first time he met him that he was a good man and a great agent. With a sigh he walked down the stairs beside Hotchner. As the team looked up at them he saw the smiles falter then fall. They knew instantly that something wasn't right._

"_What's wrong?" JJ asked. There was fear in her voice, like she didn't want to know the answer but was forcing herself to hear it._

_Hotchner raised his eyes and met everyone's before speaking. "I just got a call from the local police department. There was an accident this morning, about three miles from here."_

_Garcia's eyes dropped to the photo on Morgan's desk of the two of them making funny faces. It was at the last Christmas party and they were both wearing Christmas hats. It had been one of the best nights of her life. As she focused on Morgan her heart dropped._

"_Oh my god." She whispered._

_She raised her eyes again. "It was Derek wasn't it? Derek had the accident?"_

_Hotchner nodded. "I'm so sorry Penelope."_

"_No, no, no, no… he's alive though, right? He has to be!" she was screaming now and everyone in the room was looking at her. Whispers were quickly exchanged as the news spread. There was a hushed silence as everyone's eyes fell on the blonde women who Morgan cared for more than just about anyone._

"_Penelope, I am so sorry. His motorbike, it lost control. There was nothing they could do. It… it exploded."_

"_No…" was all she said while shaking her head._

_No one else moved as they absorbed this information. He was gone. The rock of the group, who they thought would always be there, was gone. And there was nothing they could do._

As soon as the briefing had finished Hotchner had left and headed straight to his office. He was supposed to be looking for a replacement but he just couldn't seem to find anyone good enough to replace Morgan. He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. Who was he kidding? He knew there was no one who could replace Morgan. He had been a part of the team for a long time and had gotten close to everyone here. Well just about everyone. He knew Strauss and Morgan hadn't got along well but he was sure he had seen a couple of tears roll down her face at his memorial service. As he sat down behind his desk he looked at the pile of folders on his desk and sighed. With a shake of his head he tipped them down into one of his draws and shut it. A knocking at his door made him lift his head. He frowned when he saw a middle aged man in a suit standing there. Instantly Hotchner had a bad feeling about this. The guy had CIA written all over him.

"Can I help you agent…?" he asked sharply.

The man entered the room and offered his hand which Hotch shook.

"Agent Hotchner, I'm Agent Johnson from the CIA. I need to talk to you about one of your agents."

Hotchner frowned at that. That wasn't what he had expected. Indicating for Johnson to sit down, Hotchner did the same.

"One of my agents? What does the CIA want with one of my agents?"

"Actually, we already have him. Well, we did… Special Agent Derek Morgan." His voice gave nothing away but as he spoke he placed the large file he had in his hands on Hotchner's desk.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello again people! just another chapter for all you awesome people who review my story. And those who don't. I'm uploading two chapters today so hold your breath untill the very end... wait bad idea, you might die.**

**Enjoy!**

**Usual disclaimer etc.**

"Morgan?" Hotch had let it slip before he could stop himself, the surprise was too much. "What the hell does that mean?"

Johnson shifted slightly in his seat, as if unsure of what Hotchner would do.

"Special Agent Morgan has been working with us for the past seven months on an undercover assignment, infiltrating a gang with big ties to a hot-shot mobster."

Hotchner frowned, his mind running over the information quickly. Derek was alive? The shock and relief he felt was tainted by a feeling of betrayal. How could he? After everything this team had been through, he left, letting them all believe he was dead. Hotchner looked up at Johnson who had taken a seat opposite him. He looked calm and had a perfect poker face, none like Hotch had ever seen before.

"Agent Morgan was supposedly killed five months ago in a motorcycle accident. I saw the body; I even identified it by on of his tattoos. Is this assignment really that dangerous that you had to pretend to kill agent Morgan?"

"The short answer; yes. The long answer, which I'm guessing is the one you want, is in that folder. Now, the only reason I'm here is that my superiors feel that you should have the right to know about the… arrangement the CIA and agent Morgan had. Also Agent Morgan demanded that if anything happened to him, that we let you know"

"Has something happened to him?"

Johnson didn't even move. He held Hotchner's gaze for all of five seconds then indicated with his head towards the file.

Hotchner picked up the file and looked at the cover. It had 'Operation: Turnkey' printed in black with 'top secret' stamped in red underneath. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the man in front of him.

"Why is it that you're 'superiors' want to tell us about this 'arrangement' as you put it now? Why not when it first started?"

Agent Johnson didn't even move as Hotchner watched him carefully, trying to find the answers he wanted.

"Something happened didn't it? You said you did have him, past tense. What happened to Morgan?"

Hotchner was pissed. He knew that something had happened and he was damned if this asshole of a man was going to stop him from finding out what.

"Like I said, it's all in the folder." Agent Johnson rose from his seat, ready to leave. "We don't need or want your help. This is strictly a courtesy visit."

Hotchner stood with him.

"I'm not finished here, I want answers from you. Is he still alive? Why did you want him in the first place? I'm sure you had plenty of agents over at the CIA who would be more than willing to jump in and help out."

Johnson stopped at that, his hand on the doorknob. He turned back and stood, staring at Hotchner. His face was set but Hotch could see the anger in his eyes.

"We don't know where agent Morgan is but our sources last put him at a hospital in Seattle three days ago. He was being treated there for serious injuries, all of which are in the file. The last anyone saw of him there, was when two men, posing as CIA agents, went to, supposedly, interrogate him. The door was closed for less than five minutes before the guard stationed outside the door heard yelling and crashes. He went to investigate and found agent Morgan standing over the two men, with their guns pointed at them. One of them was dead. The other one had a broken arm and a gunshot wound to the leg. Seemed the guns had silencers. Anyway, the guard attempted to stop Morgan and ended up with a bullet in his arm. He was then knocked unconscious and agent Morgan escaped."

He was glaring at Hotchner but didn't stop talking, his voice becoming harder with each sentence.

"Before you ask why I'm telling you this, believe me it's not so for your comfort. It's so you know that two of my agents lost their lives because of this. We found the bodies of the two agents those men were impersonating twenty-four hours ago. My men are and always will be willing to help their country."

Hotchner knew what it was like to lose not only agents but also friends who were under your command. It was a feeling you never got over. Even now with Morgan, when he had thought he was dead it hurt and now to find he was alive but with serious injuries, it didn't put his mind at ease. A new sense of determination seemed to rise in him. He would find him. He nodded his head once.

"I am sorry about what happened. I'm sure your agents are willing. But that doesn't explain why you needed my agent for this."

Agent Johnson sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"We think we have a leak. There's an investigation but they're certain it's someone in my unit. I haven't been able to find out who just yet. So I needed someone on the outside. Agent Morgan was recommended to me by another agent, so I checked him out. He was perfect for the job. I can't tell you who recommended him sorry."

"And he just went along with it all? He was happy with leaving everything behind for however long he was needed? He didn't mind letting people believe he was dead? Putting his friends and family through that?"

Johnson looked a little nervous before simply saying "He's done it before."

"That was different. He might have been away for eighteen months but people knew he was still alive. They didn't think he was dead!"

"It was the only way! We didn't think it would go on for this long!"

"You're lying. You knew it would take this long. I bet you expected it to go on for longer, except it all went wrong didn't it?"

"Look I need to find him before he does anything stupid and gets himself or others killed. And you and your team aren't going to interfere. Do you understand?"

Hotch just stared at the man. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stepped forward, a cold calmness settled around him. His face was inches away from the Agent Johnson's face.

"Special Agent Morgan would never knowingly put an innocent person in harms way, so don't you dare try and pin your mistakes on him."

"And what about unknowingly? Would he be able to put them in harms way then?"

Hotchner frowned. What was he talking about? Why wouldn't he know what he was doing? He quickly looked at the list of injuries Morgan had suffered.

"Amnesia?" he asked, stunned.

Well, that explained a lot, he thought, his mind running over all the pieces of the puzzle.

Johnson nodded.

"Yes. His doctor said that he was just beginning to remember things when he escaped." He sighed before continuing. "Look, I know you and your team will want in and to be honest, right now I can't trust anyone in my unit… I might be able to convince my superiors that I could work with you and your team on this case. I want this dealt with as soon as possible. The day before Morgan disappeared; he contacted us and told us he had urgent information about a high priority deal going on. We had set up a meeting, fifteen hours. He disappeared thirteen hours after he contacted us. I don't know exactly what the information is but I know that it could save a lot of lifes."

Hotchner just nodded.

"I need to get my team in here now. They're not going to be pleased and you're going to have to answer a lot of questions" He warned.

"I understand."

Before picking up the phone, Hotchner looked Johnson in the eyes and nodded at him. "Thank you for this."

"Just don't screw this up."

* * *

**Please review and thanks for reading!**

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And look another chapter already! Aren't I good?... don't answer that.**

**Enjoy and please review! And thanks to the everyone who has! You keep the story alive!!!**

* * *

He was running, a gun in his hand and another stuffed in the back of his pants. Everything looked the same to him as he ran down street after street, trying to put as much distance as he possibly could between him and the hospital where he had just shot three people. Even though they had been trying to kill him he hated the fact that he had reacted so quickly and easily to people pointing guns at him. As soon as they had entered his room he knew it wasn't going to end well. As the images of what happened in the hospital ran through his mind, he turned down an alley. He froze when he entered it. A new memory assaulted him and he closed his eyes, leaning heavily against the wall.

_He was sprinting hard, chasing someone down street after street. His legs were on fire, he had been chasing this guy for almost twelve blocks. He should of caught him by now but the gunshot the man he was chasing had gotten off before he started running was starting to slow him down. It had skimmed him in the leg and with each step he took it screamed with agony. He slowed down now though. Something was wrong, he could feel it. With his gun out he made his way around the corner, letting his eyes take in everything. There was no one there. The alleyway was empty. He frowned at that, looking for doors the man could have escaped through. There was nothing, expect the windows three stories up. He took another step into the alley, his mind working in over time. He should stop now, let the others know where he was and call them in. He had already got his phone out when a noise above him made him stop. He looked up, eyes widening as the guy he had been chasing, jumped out of a window above him. He dived out of the way just in time. The man landed hard on his side, groaning and screaming as he did. Approaching carefully as he still had a weapon on him somewhere, Derek got his handcuffs out and quickly pulled the arms of the man around to his back and clicked them in place. Once done he pulled his phone out and called an ambulance. After checking the mans injuries and discovering that although he would be in a bit of pain for a while, he would live, he rang another number on his phone. Ignoring the pain coming from his leg and from his shoulder where he landed, he waited nervously for the man on the other end to pick up. He knew he was in big trouble._

"_Hotchner."_

"_Hey Hotch."_

"_Morgan! Where are you? Are you alright? We heard a gunshot."_

"_Yeah, I'm fine. I got the Unsub. He… ah…is waiting for an ambulance. I'm about twelve blocks from his apartment with him. I'll meet you at the hospital."_

"_No I'm coming to you. I had already got Garcia to give us your co-ordinates. Just wait there. We'll be there in a minute."_

_He nodded then realised that his boss couldn't see that. "Ah right." He rubbed his hand over his face, keeping an eye on the suspect at his feet. "See you soon."_

"_You sure you're alright?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, I'm good."_

"_Ok bye."_

"_Bye"_

_Blood was running down his leg, darkening his jeans and dripping into his shoes. He ignored it for now, hoping that the ambulance would come now so he could get this guy out of his sights. After raping and killing twelve women, he wasn't feeling very sympathetic towards him. He really hoped the ambulance would get here before Hotchner and the team so he could clean up a bit first. His shoulder was scraped and his sleeve hung on by some threads. It stung but with everything else going on he hardly noticed it. His cheek had a cut on it as well, the blood dripping down his chin. A siren met his ears and he gave a small sigh of relief._

The memory ended there. He felt like there was a lot more to it and something happened straight afterwards that, even though he couldn't remember it, still made his stomach tighten with guilt. It frustrated him that he couldn't control what he remembered. He looked down at what he was wearing and frowned as it suddenly occurred to him that he should find some real clothes. Currently he was dressed in some scrubs he had picked up as he made his way out of the hospital. He was barefoot and still had the I.D. bracelet around his wrist. He smiled at that. What Identity? He bent down and felt for the scar on his leg. It was very faint but he could just feel it. At least these memories were real he thought. He froze as he went to stand up. The phone number he rang. He could remember it so he could call it. He had already started to make his way out of the alley when he froze. How could he know if he should trust him or not? It had seemed like they were friends and that he trusted him in the memory but what if….? He shook his head. He had his last name, he could look him up. As he smiled he realised he had his own last name as well.

"Morgan, Derek Morgan."

He smiled. It felt so much better knowing at least something about himself. Then he remembered Mikey and the man with the burnt face. His smile dropped from his face. Dealt with it later, he told himself. Just get some normal clothes so you won't stand out as much. You need to blend in.

He set off down the Alley again, looking for an open door so he could 'borrow' some clothes. He didn't want to think of it as stealing. It would just add to the ever growing list of crimes he had committed in the past few hours. He was pretty sure that there were ones he couldn't remember but he decided that they didn't count. He kept moving. Something told him that it would be unsafe for him to be in one place for too long. He started running. Slow at first but as his tired body began to wake up he got faster. It wasn't as fast as what he hoped for but it would do for now. No one would be looking for him here. Hell, he had no idea where here was.

A few hours later he had some new clothes and was currently walking down the street, eating an apple. He was wearing dark jeans like in his memory with a loose T-shirt. He had found some good strong hiking boots, along with a black leather jacket. When he caught a glance of himself in a window he stopped for a moment. This was the first time he had got a really good look at himself. Every other memory had been from his point of view, focusing on others and not himself. In the hospital he hadn't even thought to ask for a mirror. Apart from the large bandage around his head he thought he might pass as just a civilian. He reached up and lightly rubbed the bandage. He was still getting headaches occasionally but before he had left the doctor had said that was to be expected. With a sigh he turned and walked away, getting lost in the crowds.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I know, I know! i'm completely terrible at updating at the moment! But I do have my reasons and they are pretty good ones. there just really long and boring... Anyway!**

**Heres a brand spankin new chapter for you all to feast on... (that sounds really weird... oh well!) Hope you all enjoy it and please dont come after me for taking so long. I have another to add on after this and in the chapter after that... Well something big happens! yay!**

**Please review and please enjoy!**

**Usual Disclaimer... You know what it is... :)**

* * *

One after another they filed into the conference room. Once there they took their normal seats, each as confused as the other. The once carefree chatting that used to grace the team was slightly forced as they waited for Hotchner to enter.

"Anyone know what this is about?" Reid asked.

The all shook their heads.

"No, I was hoping someone else would know."

"Has anyone heard anything about a big case or something on the news?"

"No and anyway wouldn't that come through your office, JJ?"

JJ nodded. "Unless it was a personal matter."

"Personal? Like what?"

"Transfers, families asking for favours, a death in the agency…." Everyone froze when she said the last one, including JJ.

There was an awkward pause before the door was opened and Hotch and another man stepped through. Everyone turned to look, relieved to have a distraction. It wasn't like they hadn't talked about Morgan's death, they just didn't want to anymore than they had to. The moment of relief was short lived when they saw the look on Hotchs face.

"Hotch? What's going on?"

Hotchner glanced at the man standing beside him, who gave a nod of consent. Turning back to his team he looked each of them in the eye before he began speaking.

"I have some rather… shocking news. It's about Derek."

A chill ran through each of them as they digested what he had said. What kind of news could Hotchner have after so long? And why did he look so grim? The fact he had said Derek instead of Morgan did little to reassure them. It was just another reminder of what they had all lost.

"Before I begin I ask that you don't ask any questions till I'm finished. It's going to be a big shock, believe me but just be patient, please."

He looked back at Agent Johnson who took a small step forward.

"This is Special Agent Johnson. He's with the CIA. And he's here to help us figure this all out."

Agent Johnson shook hands with each team member, giving them a nod as they let go. The moment he had finished he went and stood behind Hotchner again, who sighed before speaking.

"Derek didn't die five months ago. He's been working with the CIA on an undercover assignment for the past seven months and right now, he's missing."

He stopped after that, letting the news sink in. The reactions around the room were different for everyone but the one thing they did have in common was the disbelief and shock that was currently making them stare at Hotchner like he had grown an extra head. Rossi was the first to recover and as he sat up straight, he asked the question they were all thinking.

"What?"

At this Agent Johnson stepped forward.

"Special agent Morgan has been helping us infiltrate a gang that had some strong ties to this man." As he spoke he held up a picture which they all recognised. "His name is Jack Town, better known as Stakes. He controls half of the American underground and black market sales."

The photo was of a man with a large burn down the left side of his face. He was wearing dark glasses but everyone knew who it was. They had studied this man many times, looking at his files, making a profile about him, everything they could that would help lead to his capture.

It was the man Morgan had seen in his flashback at The Riverboat.

Reid was nodding his head in a daze. He couldn't help but turn to facts and knowledge, especially when he was in shock like this.

"I remember him. He's been to jail twice, once for drug possession and the other for assault. He's been to court another five times and has never been convicted for any of those crimes which included murder, assault and…"

Reid saw the looks the other were giving him and gave a small apologetic smile.

"And a lot of other bad things no one really wants to know about right now."

"Agent Morgan was supposed to contact us almost five days ago. We haven't heard from him since but as of three days ago we know he was alive. We believe that Stakes found out he was an Agent and decided to kill him. Somehow he managed to escape, badly injured though. Stakes will know that Agent Morgan is still alive and he will have a lot of people looking for him. This is why we need to find him and fast."

Garcia looked desperately from each face, hoping someone would admit this was all a big, sick, twisted joke. When she had found out Morgan had died, she had been devastated, but now five months later she was trying to slowly rebuild her life. And this had brought it all tumbling down. She missed Derek so much. His smile, the way he teased and flirted with her, his smell, the fact that when ever she was with him she felt safe.

"Why would he do this?" she whispered, her eyes fixed on a spot on the table.

"Penelope, he was doing his job. I know it's not a great answer but Morgan must have thought this was important, otherwise I know he would never have agreed to go." Hotchner said quietly.

At that Agent Johnson shifted uneasily but no one but Penelope noticed. She stared at him for a moment, a sense of recognition hitting her. She remembered him from somewhere, she just didn't know where. With a slight frown on her face she turned to her boss.

"You think that he thought this…job was so important that he would just leave us all with some stupid story about how he died in an accident. We thought he was dead! We thought he had left us forever! You saw his family at the funeral back in Chicago. They were devastated. Just like we were. Nothing has been the same since he 'died' and to be honest, even if we do get him back; I don't think it'll ever get better."

Everyone was silent. No one wanted to admit it but she had a point. Things would be different. Agent Johnson was the only one not looking that upset. This wasn't his team and even if it was, he doubted they had a bond quite like this one. He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Look, things happen but right now I need to get Agent Morgan back as soon as possible. He has valuable information and which I'm positive will serve a huge blow to Stakes dealings. This isn't a discussion about why Agent Morgan did what he did. It's about finding that information. It's your choice if you help or not but you better think quickly, because I'll walk out that door. I think it would be in his best interests if you help."

Every other head turned towards him, a look of disgust and outrage on the teams faces. But none like the look of disgust on Garcia's face. She was staring at Agent Johnson in a whole new light. She remembered where she had seen him. It was his words that did it. She had heard him say almost exactly the same thing to Morgan almost nine months ago.

_After a long day of finishing paperwork, Morgan had invited Garcia out to get a coffee before he drove her home. With Esther in the garage, Morgan had been her chauffer for the past week. She felt bad about it at first and had refused his offers. But when he wouldn't drop it and kept appearing outside her house at six-thirty every morning for work, she gave in. And now she was glad. They hadn't spent as much time together as she had hoped for after she broke up with Kevin and Morgan kept disappearing quickly after work. She had been meaning to ask him about where he kept running off to and now seemed like the perfect time. She had already interrogated Reid, Prentiss and JJ about it but they were just as confused as she was and every question aimed at Morgan had been deflected with a small smile and then he would subtly change the question. He was good at that, getting out of talking about things he didn't want to._

_As Morgan drove towards their favourite little out of the way coffee place, they talked about small trivial things like work, and what they had been up to in the weekend. Garcia had just opened her mouth to ask about where he had been sneaking off to when Morgan swore softly. Garcia turned and frowned at him. His eyes kept flicking between the road he was driving along and the car behind them. When she looked back to see what the problem was, Morgan seemed to come out of his trance and shot her a worried look. _

"_It's just a friend of mine from my cop days back in Chicago. I haven't seen him in ages. It was just a surprise, that's all."_

_He gave her a reassuring smile which she accepted, even though there was a niggling voice in her head telling her something was wrong. It seemed awkward in the car now, as neither of them knew what to say. She could see Derek was still tense by the way he gripped the steering wheel like he was ready to break it. Garcia completely forgot about asking him about where he had been going._

_When they arrived at the coffee place, Garcia was surprised to see the same car turn in behind them and park a couple of spaces away. Morgan seemed to follow the car with his eyes and as he got out of the car he turned to Garcia and gave her a big smile._

"_Can you go inside and grab us a table? I just want to catch up real quick. And if the waitress comes around… just order me what you're having."_

"_Ooo. So, you trust me with your coffee order? I'm shocked! But pleasantly surprised. You do realise I've been trying to cut down on the coffee lately? That's why I drink so much tea now."_

_He grinned back at her. "I know, baby girl. I completely trust you with my coffee choice."_

"_Alrighty then but don't say I didn't warn you!"_

_As she walked towards the café, she hung back a bit to try and hear what was being said. She knew she shouldn't but something was off about all of this and she just knew Morgan wouldn't say anything to her._

"_What the hell are you doing here?" She heard Morgan exclaim angrily "I've already given you my answer. I'm not going to do it!"_

"_Look, Agent Morgan, we know we're putting you in a tough position-"_

"_You know you're putting me in a tough position?" Morgan interrupted with a sarcastic laugh, "Yeah it is a little tough, thank you for you're concern. You know what if you and your men don't stop harassing me, I will report you. I don't work for you, alright?"_

_Morgan went to turn and walk away when the man grabbed his arm._

"_You know this isn't just about you. You'll be helping a lot of people. And I'm not just talking abut those involved with the case."_

_He opened a folder he had in his hands and showed the contents to Morgan who froze as he looked at the pictures inside. Garcia couldn't make out what they were of but she knew it was important because Morgan couldn't take his eyes off them._

"_I think it would be in their best interest if you helped"_

_Morgan simply nodded before turning and walking towards the coffee shop. His eyes met Garcia's. He didn't say anything about it and when she tried to mention it he brushed it off as an old case from years ago. She hadn't believed him then and any attempt to get him talking about it later had been brushed off._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Ok! here's that extra chapter I promised! so I hope you all enjoy it! And I promise I'm going to be updating alot quicker, so keep your eyes open!**

**And to keep you hooked, in the next chapter... Morgan calls Hotch!!! :O So stay tuned and please keep reviewing!!!**

**Usual Disclaimer... **

* * *

The full force of what she had witnessed that night hit her like a ton of bricks. They had blackmailed him! Just so he would do their dirty work for them. The anger she felt was like nothing she had ever felt before.

"I remember you" she spat out.

Everyone looked at her, including Agent Johnson, whose face had just turned rather white.

"You were at the coffee shop that night. What did you show Derek?"

Johnson didn't reply. He merely cleared his throat before turning to Hotchner.

"Maybe we should get on with it?"

"Not just yet. I want to know what Garcia is talking about. What happened, Garcia?"

She looked towards her boss before sitting back down and telling everyone about that night. When she was finished there was a tension in the room like never before.

"Agent Johnson," Hotchner's voice was like ice. "Care to tell us what photos you were showing Special Agent Morgan that 'convinced' him to come and work with you on this undercover operation?"

Agent Johnson cleared his throat again, being careful not to meet anyone's eyes. "I…um…look, we were desperate. We needed Agent Morgan for the job and we knew he wouldn't do it without a little… persuasion. So…"

"So you did blackmail him?" Reid asked, his normal quiet and calm demeanour gone.

"Yes, we did. And I would do it again. This mission has been a great success. We have gained information, unlike anything we could have hoped for" he stated enthusiastically.

It was the wrong thing to say. If the tension was strong before, now it was almost unbearable.

"Even if it meant getting Derek killed?" JJ asked, her voice soaked in disbelief and hate.

Agent Johnson didn't answer, which was a good enough answer for all of them.

"What were the photos of?" Rossi asked quietly.

"They were of his family, his sisters and his mom. We knew they had hit hard times and run into quite a few debts that, even with Agent Morgan's help, haven't been going away very easily." He paused as he took in the shocked looks on everyone's faces, before continuing in a softer tone. "We knew he would do anything for them so we made a suggestion that those debts could get a lot bigger over a single night and it might be in their best interests if he... well if he took the job."

It was silent in the room as everyone in the team digested what Agent Johnson said.

"I thought the CIA was looking at building good relations with the other agencies. Especially since they don't have the… nicest reputation. And then you go and blackmail an FBI agent with his family. Did your superiors know about this?"

Rossi was furious, as was the rest of the team. Morgan hadn't mentioned any of this to anyone. Garcia was mentally cursing both the agent in front of her, but also Morgan. Why did he always try and take care of things by himself? Didn't he realise they would be more than willing to help him. She could hear him now, going on about how he didn't want to get them involved, how didn't want to burden them, how he could handle it. Him and his stupid stupidness! She was going to give him a serious talking to when they got him back. If they got him back, a small voice said in the back of her mind. She instantly hated herself for thinking that. She knew they would do everything they could to try and find him. But, the little voice said, will that be enough?

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

It had been two days since he had started running. Two days since he had killed someone and injured two others. The images from that day had burnt themselves into his memory, coming up whenever he tried to sleep or wanted to rest. A horrible thought had occurred to him when he had been trying to find a place to rest the first night out. What if they really were CIA agents? What if he had just killed the people who were on his side, who were trying to help him? He had sat for hours after that, looking at the number from his memory that he had quickly scrawled on a piece of paper he found on the ground. He had a cell phone now too, courtesy of someone forgetting it on a bench in the park. His fingers would hang over the keypad as he argued with himself inside his head. Should I? Shouldn't I? The questions would chase each other around his mind until a noise would startle him. That always got him moving. Even if he was sure it wasn't someone watching him, he had this urge to keep moving. So he did. He would walk for at least an hour each time, making his way further and further out of the city. He had borrowed a map once but that had been the day before and now he wasn't sure where he was. He didn't want to keep going like this. His memory was still very sketchy. Most of the memories he did have were triggered by smells and sounds. They would give him little insights to his life but usually they were too short to be of any use to him. He sighed in frustration as he looked around him again. The feeling that he was being watched was growing stronger and stronger. At that moment two police cars drove past, chasing a red car just in front of them. Morgan watched them go past, his face lit up from the lights of the police cars. A new memory overcame his mind, the echoing sounds of the sirens following him from the present to his past.

_The sirens from his car echoed through his ears as he sped down the highway. After reporting his situation and where he was he had taken off after the guy, wanting to catch him, make him pay for what he did. It wasn't even his car he was driving. A police officer at the scene had thrown him the keys as he ran past and he had taken them without another thought. The van was just ahead of him. Just the sight of it made him tighten his grip on the steering wheel. He had to get this guy. He had promised her. He had promised himself. _

_His phone was ringing but he knew who was on the other end and he knew what they would say. It was easier for him to ignore them for now. He would deal with it when he had to. But for now, this piece of garbage had his full attention and he didn't want it any other way. After what he had done, he deserved nothing but the worse. Kidnap, rape, murder. This guy had done it all. But the thing that got Morgan the most was the age of the victims. The oldest had been eleven. Morgan remembered talking to her the night before she had been taken. Two other girls from her class had gone missing and it wasn't until they had talked to Rebecca that they had figured it out. A janitor at her school. Mr Alex she had called him. Turned out Mr Alex's van fitted the description of the vehicle seen speeding away from Rebecca's house that morning. They had gone back to the school, they had gone to his mother's house and Morgan and two other cops had gone to his house. He wasn't going to let him get away. Not if there was a chance he knew where Rebecca was. He needed information and he had it. Which meant Morgan needed him alive. Lucky for him he thought bitterly._

_He was catching up. The distance between the two vehicles was closing and as he watched, Alex turned down a side road and stopped the van. Morgan parked behind him and got out quickly, using the car as cover. He had his gun out ready as he walked slowly towards the van._

"_Alex put your hands out the window and with your left hand open the driver's door." When there was no movement from inside the van, Morgan took a step forward._

"_I'm with the FBI Alex. There's nowhere for you to run. Just give it up."_

_He took another step forward and looked inside. There was Alex, his arm around a crying Rebecca, a gun pointed firmly at her head. Alex was crying too and as he saw Morgan approach his grip got tighter._

"_You take another step and I'll kill her, I swear I will."_

_Morgan froze. He knew he would never be able to forgive himself if she died._

"_Alright, I'm not moving. But Alex, you gotta know that there are more cops on the way and they won't like what they see. Why don't you let Rebecca go and I promise I'll take good care of her."_

_Alex shook his head, his cheeks covered in tears._

"_You can't help her, not like I can. She needs me!" He shouted the last part, shaking Rebecca slightly as she whimpered._

_Morgan took half a step forward. He didn't want to make a move with Rebecca so close to Alex but he knew that if he didn't move soon, Alex would._

"_Alex, listen to me. I know you think you're helping these girls but your not. Two other girls are dead Alex! Where you trying to help them when you killed them? When you raped them?"_

_Alex just sat there, shaking his head and crying. Morgan could hear faint sirens in the distance and knew they were coming this way. Any minute now Alex would hear them too and Morgan was afraid of what he might do._

"_Alex, I want you to listen to me ok? I promise that if you let Rebecca go, I'll tell them how you helped her. Just let her go, please."_

_Alex looked up at that, his eyes landing on Morgan's desperate face. He stopped crying. Slowly he let Rebecca go, moving the gun so it was in his lap. Rebecca didn't move, she was frozen with fear._

"_Rebecca, listen to me. It's Derek from the FBI. Remember I came and talked to you yesterday? I want you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me?"_

_Rebecca gave a small nod, while Alex sat there, staring at the gun now resting in his lap._

"_Ok I want you to open your door and make your way to the police car that's just behind this car ok? When you get there, climb inside and lock the doors. Don't open them for anyone except me or someone else from the FBI. Ask for Aaron Hotchner. Can you do that?"_

_Rebecca gave another small nod and with a quick look at Alex she opened her door and climbed out. Although Morgan couldn't see her, he could hear her running. He waited till he heard the sound of the car door open and closes before he addresses Alex again._

"_What happens now Alex? What are you going to do?"_

_Alex looked up, his eyes red and sore from crying, his hands shaking as he holds the gun. Morgan could see what he was about to do and prayed he didn't._

"_Now I go to hell."_

_Alex raised the gun, aiming it at Morgan. Without a second thought Morgan fired, hitting him in the chest, in the heart. Knowing that he was dead, Morgan lowered his gun. She's safe he reminded himself. That's what you set out to do, that's what you did._

He was a cop. He already knew that from some of his other visions. If that was true then why hadn't the search found anything? Surely his description would be in their database. Or his fingerprints. But no one had found out who he was. Why didn't anyone know who he was?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focus on what to do now. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell-phone. He had already saved the number into the phone. All he had to do was push two buttons and the phone would ring. And he would be one step closer to finding the truth. But did he really want to know?


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey look! Another chapter!!! YAY. Like I said on my other story, sorry it's taken me so long to update. i've been having problems with my computer :( But it's all fixed now (hopefully) so here is my next chapter! I hope you enjoy it and thank you to everyone who reads and reviews. It makes me very happy XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own squat! Sigh....**

* * *

It had been several hours since Agent Johnson had told them the truth about the blackmailing and the mood in the conference room hadn't improved much. Agent Johnson was wisely staying out of the team's way, saying he had phone calls to make. He promised he would keep looking into things from his end before he rushed back over to the CIA. No one was that bothered by his abrupt departure, although a few of them had contemplated giving him a black eye as a parting gift. He had left them with the files from the case and they were shocked when he brought two whole boxes out.

"It was a big operation. The file I gave Agent Hotchner was just the brief notes, mainly concerning Agent Morgan. This is everything we've got. Don't lose it or all of our asses are on the line."

And with that he had turned and left. For the next four hours they had gone through every file, every note, and every picture, trying to find a clue or a lead of some kind. Anything that would take them to Morgan. The only time they had stopped reading was to discuss the case. In the time they had been looking they had found nothing and Hotchner knew it was time for a break.

"Alright listen to me."

The entire team looked up, blinking to try and refocus their eyes.

"I know you all want to find Morgan as much as I do but we need to take a break, all of us." He added when he saw them about to protest. "We can't help him if we're all too tired to keep our eyes open. Take an hour to rest or take a walk or get something to eat, anything that doesn't involve this case. Just for a little while, Ok?"

They all nodded, none of them happy about what they were being told. Hotch nodded back, pulling out his cell phone as he did. He was about to call Strauss with an update when it started ringing. The team were already out the door, stretching as they went. It was a quiet walk to the break room for all of them as they each got a new cup of coffee, their old cups having gone cold hours ago without anyone noticing.

Hotchner waited till they were out the door before he answered. He looked at the caller ID and frowned when he saw it was a number he didn't know. He opened it with a snap and brought it up to his ear.

"Hotchner."

There was silence on the other end but he knew someone was there and they were listening, hard. He frowned before addressing them again.

"Hello? This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. Can I help you with something?"

There was another pause and Hotchner was getting annoyed now. He was too tired for this sort of thing. Before he could say anything though a single word made him freeze. His breath caught and as he stood there he thought his legs might give out.

"_Hotch?"_

The phone almost slipped out of hands as he stared off into space.

"_I don't know if you remember me or anything but… I think I used to work with you."_

Finally he managed to open his mouth.

"Derek? Is that you?"

"_It could be. I mean I'm pretty sure that's my name. Derek Morgan?"_

Hotchner heard him sigh in frustration before continuing.

"_Look things are pretty messed up in my mind right now… but I think I need your help."_

"Alright, where are you? The rest of the team and I will come to you and then we'll sort this out ok? Just give us a bit of time ok?"

He was moving now, taking the stairs two at time as he ran all the way to the break room. He burst through the door, startling the team and the janitor who seemed to be helping Reid clean up a broken sugar jar. He could hear Morgan on the phone though and he sounded panicked.

"_Rest of the team? Look I just… I just need to figure out who I am and what the hell I've gotten myself into. I'll talk to you but if you tell anyone else I'm on the phone… then I'll hang up. Sorry but that's the way it's gotta be for now. I don't even know if I can trust you."_

Hotchner sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

"Alright just you and me. But if you're going to trust me, then you should know that I trust my team and that means you can trust them to. You're a part of this team too."

There was a pause and Hotch could hear heavy traffic driving past.

"_I am?"_

The uncertainty in his voice had Hotch cringe. He had been staring at the floor as he talked to Morgan but he looked up now and found six faces staring back at him. He gave a wave of his hand, indicating for them not to worry. It didn't really help them though as they exchanged glances before taking a step forward. Hotch, with a slightly frustrated look on his face held up a hand before continuing.

"Yes, you are and everyone here is looking for you. We want to get you home."

There was another pause at his words so Hotch took the moment and turned to his team, covering the mouth piece as he did.

"Garcia, trace the call now. It's Morgan."

Garcia stood stunned for a second along with the rest of the team before she went running out of the room, flicking off her high heels as she went to go faster. Everyone moved out of her way as she went speeding past. With a gasp, she collapsed into her chair. She was typing a second later, her fingers racing across the keyboard. This was it she thought. They had found him! A smile lit up her face as seconds later she had him. Even though Morgan was just a blinking red dot on a map, it was the closest she had felt to him in a long time. She set her computers to follow it before running back to the others, picking up her shoes on the way. She arrived just in time to see Hotch turn the phone on speaker and indicate everyone to be quiet. The janitor had since left, taking the broken jar with him. Garcia felt her heart skip when she heard Morgan speak.

"_I can't remember much. So much has happened and then there were the men at the hospital…"_

Morgan sounded exhausted. They could hear it every time he sighed and his breathing seemed to hitch. Each of them was thinking about the medical report they had just read. _Three cracked ribs on the right side, extensive bruising. Most likely cause: A metal pipe or crowbar._

Garcia's heart fell again as she listened. Never had she heard him like this. There was a cautious tone to everything he said and Garcia knew he thought he had said too much when he mentioned the hospital. The thing that scared her the most however, was the fear she heard in his voice. It was almost unnatural to hear him like that.

"Listen to me Derek. That wasn't your fault. They attacked you and you defended yourself. It was self defence." He paused for a moment as he looked at Garcia who nodded. He turned back to the phone. "We just want you back."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone and for a moment the team thought Morgan was gone. Then they heard slow and painful footsteps and they knew Morgan was on the move again.

Morgan was silent as he thought about what Hotchner had said. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bench he was sitting on, pulling his arm around stomach as he did. The pain flared up as he moved and he couldn't help but wince. The bandages that he had had at the hospital were long gone. He had some from a basic first aid kit he had picked up on his travels and now they were tightly wrapped around his wounds. He could remember the doctor going on about how important it was to keep the area around his injuries clean, how the smallest thing could cause an infection.

Morgan began walking slowly down the street, trying not to draw attention to himself. He had his head down against the wind and the prying eyes of others. As Morgan listened to Hotch, his head started to pound. He couldn't help but rub his temples as he walked. It was just one thing after the other, he thought bitterly.

"I don't know if I can. There are things going on here that I don't even understand. What the hell did I get involved with?"

"_We can't really discuss it on the phone. There's too much going on and to be honest we don't know how secure this line is."_

"What do you mean? They can trace me can't they? I bet your tracing me right now!"

The stress Morgan felt increased the relentless pounding in his head, causing him to wince. He bent over slightly, his free hand rubbing circles on his temple. Coming to a stop at some street lights, Morgan couldn't help but close his eyes. Trying to calm himself with deep breaths, he counted to ten before realising Hotchner was talking again.

"_We just wanted to know where you were. Derek… Everyone believed you to be dead. A cover story was made up of you crashing your motorbike and dying from the explosion it caused. You've been presumed dead for five months."_

The breath he had managed to control was taken from him as he listened to his former boss. He was supposed to be dead? Why wasn't he then? Why was he standing on some random corner instead of six feet under? Morgan opened his eyes and ran a hand over his face. This was insane. It had to be one giant practical joke, it just had to be.

Before Morgan could say another word, the sound of speeding wheels caught his attention. Straightening up, he looked down the road he had just come and was shocked to see a dark van coming towards him. And it wasn't slowing down. Morgan turned to run, forgetting about the phone in his hand. The van stopped with a skid of tyres just metres behind him. He heard the doors slide open as he ran, bumping past people as he did. Ignoring their calls of anger, Morgan kept going, knowing being caught by these guys would be a very bad thing. He spotted a shop just ahead and grinned as a plan started to form in his head. He could duck in there and get lost amongst the busy crowd. He turned slightly; ready to put his plan into action while trying to ignore the pain that was building throughout his body. He had barely gotten three steps before an intense pain flared in his back. Jolts of electricity ran through his body, as he arched his back in pain, gasping harshly, before collapsing onto the footpath unconscious.

A crowd was gathering now, murmuring and staring wide eyed at the scene before them. A couple of people had taken out their phones to call the police when the men from the van stepped forward, holding up badges so the nervous crowd could see.

"Alright,' one of them called out, 'I need you to all remain calm as we get this man out of here. He's a dangerous criminal who is wanted across the country for various crimes. I'm Special Agent Brad Turnot and I'm with the FBI. My colleagues and I are taking this man into custody. Sorry to have interrupted your evening. Have a pleasant night." As he talked, two of the other men walked over to Morgan and clasped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, pulling his hands behind his back. With some difficulty the men manage to pull him up and drag him to the van. The taser that had brought Morgan down lies forgotten on the footpath, next to his phone. As the van doors shut 'Agent Turnot' takes a final look around. A smile graces his face as he takes in all the curious and confused faces. This is what he was born to do. The anticipation of the job ahead lets him take a moment as he enjoys the panic he has created. He turns to leave when out of the corner of his eye he spots Morgan's phone, still open and connected to Hotch on the other end. He frowns before pushing his way over to it. As he picks it up a moment of panic races through his body as he sees the number Derek had dialled. How much had he heard? Did the man on the other end recognise his voice? Slowly he raised the phone to his ear and listened to the frantic voice on the other end.

"_Morgan?! Morgan, can you hear me? What happened? Morgan!"_

He knows he shouldn't, but the thrill is too much.

"Aaron, how nice to hear your voice again. Although I must admit last time we spoke he seemed a lot calmer. Is something troubling you? Perhaps, a missing agent?"

"_Who are you and what have you done with Agent Morgan?"_

"Where are your manners, Aaron? Unfortunately Derek is a little under the weather. But not to worry, I will be taking extra special care of him. I really would love to stay and chat, but I have a schedule to keep to. I do hope we can talk again soon. Ciao"

"_Wai-"_

He snapped the phone shut and quickly wiped it down before dropping it back on the ground. Smirking he walked back to the van and hopped in the front passenger seat. As they drove away his thoughts turned back to the unconscious man in the back. He was going to have a lot of fun with him. A lot of fun.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Please review. Just click the wittle button.... You know you want to :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hellooooo again! Here's another juicy chapter for all you hungry people! Read, enjoy, review. It's that simple XD**

**Usual Disclaimer: I don't own squat. One day though....**

* * *

The air hung heavy around him as he struggled to wake up. With a groan he tried to raise his head, wincing at the pain that ran through his back. What the hell just happened? A flash of people chasing him entered his mind as he became more aware of his surroundings. Of course, he thought bitterly. Those men in the van. They had kidnapped him. With another soft groan he lifted his head higher, this time pulling it completely off his chest as he managed to open his eyes. It was like being a rollercoaster for his senses as each one was hit with an almost overwhelming presence. The throbbing in his head increased as his tired mind tried to make sense of what was happening around him. He blinked slowly as the room came into focus. He was facing an old concrete wall, layered with cracks that reached upwards like dead branches on a tree. It was a bleak view and Morgan frowned as he stared. There were dark stains running down the wall and Morgan felt his stomach lurch when he realised it was blood. There was a coppery smell to the air that seemed to get inside his nose and his mouth without the slightest trouble. Morgan realised almost instantly that fresh blood had been spilt here. Well that just makes this seem that little bit worse, he thought bitterly. Turning his head a little, he took in the rest of the room. All four walls were made out of the same thick concrete. Twisting painfully to look behind him, his eyes fell on a large steel door. It was an imposing sight. The door reached to the roof of his cell. It sat on a rolling bar, allowing easy entry for whoever was outside. As Morgan examined it, he realised it could only be opened from the outside.

"Great," he muttered to himself.

Trying to find another means of escape, he glanced up at the ceiling. A large vent pumped fresh oxygen into the room through a grate. Morgan sighed. At least he wouldn't suffocate. He shivered slightly in the cool air. They had removed most of his clothing, leaving him sitting with just his boxers on. His muscles ached as he tried his best to get into a comfortable position. His wrists and ankles were tied securely to the chair, the rope pulled taught against his skin. After finding it impossible, Morgan turned his attention elsewhere. A couple of stitches from the stab wound to his stomach seemed to have com undone, leaving a trail of blood running down his body and onto the floor. It was accompanied by a dull throb that seemed to worsen the longer he sat there. His movements earlier had helped speed up the flow of the blood, letting more sluggishly leak out from his wound. Morgan watched it worriedly. It didn't look life threatening at the moment but he knew how things could go pear shaped in a second. That was how he had ended up here in the first place.

He thought back to earlier. How had they found him so quickly? The phone call he realised bitterly. He knew it was a bad idea but a part of him had been desperate to make the call, to try and find the roots of his situation. More importantly, he had felt like he could trust the man named Hotchner. A loud creaking noise interrupted Morgan's silent debate. It took him a moment to realise it was the door being opened. He turned his neck as best he could, wanting to see who it would be. As the door rolled to the side, an unknown man stepped through the doorway. In his hands he held a small black travelling bag. Morgan felt his eyes drawn to it and as he watched he felt a sense of fear and apprehension, his mind seemed to recall from some forgotten memory upon seeing the bag. As soon as the man had stepped through the door it was pulled shut and a bar slammed down across the door, the sound echoing within the room.

Morgan pulled his eyes from the bag to watch the man's every move. He kept his head turned away from Morgan, so he was unable to see his face. Instead he took in the rest of him. He wore a flash suit, dark in colour with a dark blue shirt to accompany it. He wore no tie but Morgan could see a chain around his neck that fell beneath the collar of his shirt. On his hands he wore black leather gloves with white stitching across the back. Upon seeing them, Morgan felt a shiver run down his spine, accompanied by a short memory.

_He was in the same room as he was now. Pain seemed to radiate from every cell in his body as he heavily raised his head to his one and only visitor._

"_Who else knows of your involvement with Mr. Stakes work?"_

_Morgan remained silent. He was feeling extremely weak and was in a lot of pain but he knew he would rather die then answer any questions. However his silence only seemed to infuriate the man further and before Morgan could do anything the man's hand was around his throat, the black leather digging into his skin. He choked as he fought against the unrelenting hold on his neck, his need to breathe becoming stronger with each passing second. The harder he fought, the stronger the pressure on his windpipe became. Morgan's eyes widened as he looked at his torturers face. There was pure pleasure in his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. As Morgan's vision started to darken around the edges, he thought he heard the door open and an angry voice called a name._

"_Richard!"_

It ended as suddenly as it had started and as Morgan looked around quickly while trying to clear his head, a new sense of confusion hit him as he found himself staring at the lens of a video camera. He couldn't remember it from his last visit but that didn't mean it hadn't been there. The red light blinked at him, indicating it was recording. He tore his eyes away from the camera to look back at the man with gloves. Morgan watched as he searched through his bag for something. He was dreading what Richard would pull out. Several moments of silence when past. Morgan didn't move the tension around him evident to anyone who looked. Richard stood with a casual comfort. In his hands he held a small glass bottle and a syringe. Dread washed over Morgan as he watched. This can't be good, he thought desperately. His feelings of unease intensified as Richard turned around and met Morgan's eyes for the first time. He had a large bruise on the left side of his forehead, with a fresh scar running down his cheek to his jaw on the same side. Stitches held it together in places and Morgan couldn't help but think he might have caused the wounds. Richards face broke into a bright smile at Morgan's confused look.

"Agent Morgan, welcome back. It's good to have you back. I really missed you and all those fun games we played together. I'm looking forward to some more. Aren't you?"

* * *

**A/N: Ok people that's another chapter done. Look out for the next one soon. It will deal more with Morgan and his memory coming back and the teams frantic searching. Oh and Hotch is going to blow his top off at someone... It'll be awesome and they totally deserve it. So yeah. Hope you liked it and please REVIEW!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Wow... This is really naughty of me... I can't believe it's been so long! too be fair though I have been traveling for the past few months. No computer for most of it :( But I'm back now! and i have a chapter for you XD**

**You probably just want to get back to the story now so here it is!!!!! And I apologize for the freakishly late update! I will be updating my other criminal minds story either tomorrow or the day after :)**

**Usual disclaimer! I don't own criminal minds. But if I did..... :P**

**Enjoy!!!!!!

* * *

**

Morgan didn't move as he watched Richard take two steps forward, his smile fixed and unconvincing. He could see the anger and disgust in his eyes. It reminded him so much of the two men who had come to his hospital room, claiming to be CIA agents. As soon as Morgan had seen them he had known something was up. It was the eyes. They always said so much about the person and this time was no different. There was a coldness that had settled a long time ago and it had grown. Now when he looked there was nothing but darkness. A pleasure for mayhem that shook Morgan to the core. Deep down, he knew he had seen it before. That scared him. Was he in so deep that he couldn't get past what he saw in peoples eyes? Would he forever look for that haunted, cold look? Maybe he already did. Who knew, considering what he apparently did for a living.

Morgan drew his attention away from his thoughts, back to the present. Richard eyes fell from his as he inserted the needle into the bottle and filled it with the clear liquid that it contained. Derek felt his eyes following Richards and he watched with a sense of dread as the needle was filled to the five milligram mark.

"What is that?" His voice was hoarse and dry. The need for water hit him suddenly and with a wince he ran his swollen tongue over his cracked lips. It was a strong annoyance but right now there were more urgent and immediate things to worry about. Richard ignored him for now, too focused on preparing the needle. He had placed the bottle back down and now gave the syringe a light flick. A small shoot of the unknown liquid shot up into the air and Morgan watched it with morbid fascination. He couldn't help but thinking back to the memory he had of Reid. The pain of those images added to his confusion. He had a feeling things hadn't simply been resolved after they had gotten Reid back. He paused at that. Had they got Reid back? The shock he brought upon himself made him clench his eyes shut. He needed to know more.

He opened his eyes to find Richard staring down at him, an unreadable look on his face. He seemed to be examining Morgan like a scientist examining a particularly interesting specimen. It unnerved him to the point he almost looked away. But a slumbering stubbornness had awoken in him amidst the pain, the confusion, the fear of what would happen and even the guilt of pulling a team of people who were currently strangers to him into the middle of whatever this was. It was the one thing that he felt might have a chance of keeping him sane right now. There was a soft twisted smile on Richards face as he stood up from where he was crouching, his hands out in front of him to keep himself balanced. Morgan watched him move, a cautious look on his features as his body stiffened in defiance.

"What is that?" he asked again.

Richard followed his gaze to the syringe before glancing back up and smirking at his expression and the tiredness that had leaked into his voice.

"What, this little thing? I'm surprised you don't recognise it. We had such a fun time with it last time. Although I admit I did use a different method. It's not as effective taken orally though. I thought we should try a little injection; see how that one works out."

Morgan stared at him in shock. What was he on about? Obviously there was more to this than he could remember but right now he was in the dark and it was not the place he wanted to be.

Richard watched as his captives expression turned to confusion and fear. Something didn't sit right about the way he was looking. Richard wanted to mess with him before he got the information out of him. It was easier to break someone when they were emotionally broken. He had seen it a number of times, had been responsible for a lot of them. It had become an art to him, testing his captives until they broke. It was always his favourite part of the interrogations he was hired to do. Although in this case his employer had wanted to see Morgan fight not only his assortment of drugs but also the pain that came with his style of questioning. This time was going to be different. It wasn't just about getting the Agent in front of him to break but also the team members who were anxiously waiting for his return. That's where the video camera came in. It hadn't been his idea but once Mr. Stakes had suggested it his eyes had lit up at the thought. He knew his boss had his own reasons for wanting this tape sent to the BAU.

Information in exchange for their Agent, alive of course. He knew that was highly unlikely. Once they had what they needed Derek Morgan would serve no further use to them. However he jumped on the opportunity anyway. After studying Psychology for years he knew what seeing someone you care about getting hurt did, especially if there was no way to help them. The brilliant thing was that this time, Richard had been given the order to use whatever means he deemed fit. It wasn't often he got an order like that. Although he didn't know the entire story of why Agent Morgan was here, he knew enough to know that he had been undercover for a reasonably long time. It pissed his employer off, especially seeing as he had grown attached to the man. It would be shame when he eventually died. He hoped he went out screaming. It was always the most exciting way.

* * *

He hated waiting at a time like this. Not only was it useless and pointless and infuriating, the reason he was here had come from above. He had to follow orders from someone he had little to no respect for at a time like this. _She _had wanted to talk about replacing Morgan again. He had completely forgotten to tell her that he was still alive and was in need of their assistance. He had ended up telling her when she had called to _summon _him to her office to discuss the latest candidates. The silence he had received after telling her his news was stony and icy. He hadn't expected anything else.

"My office, now."

That was all she had said before hanging up on him. With a sigh of frustration he had left his team with a simple apology and made his way upstairs where her office claimed a fair portion of the floor. And now she was keeping him waiting while she finished talking to the Director of the CIA, obviously checking up on what he had told her. He understood that at least. If someone had told him Morgan was alive over the phone he never would have believed them. The hope would be there, along with the sharp pain of guilt as he was reminded of what he had lost.

He lifted his head at the soft sound of the phone being placed back into its cradle. He waited impatiently for her to call him in. I don't have time for this! Derek doesn't have time for this. Standing up, he began pacing up and down the corridor. An agent wandered past, shooting him a worried look. News had spread fast through the office. He didn't understand how as his team had been requested to keep silent about the whole project until they knew more. The number of sympathetic looks he had been given was driving him crazy. A number of Agents had approached him as he made his way to Strauss's office wondering what they could do to help or simply wanting to know if it was true. It was actually a relief to find himself at her office, just so he could get away from everyone for a moment and collect himself.

The janitor he realised. He was in the break room when Morgan called. He must have overheard what he was saying. At the back of his mind a feeling of unease was building at the thought of the janitor. Before he could turn too much of his attention to the nagging feeling in his gut, Strauss's office door opened. He looked up and met the furious eyes glaring daggers at him.

"Agent Hotchner. We have a lot to talk about."

She turned back into her office, knowing he's following her. He can't help the small groan at her words. Get it over with as soon as possible he thought. He gave a nod, knowing she couldn't see it as he stepped into her domain. She was watching with calculating eyes and although he would never admit it, they made him feel a little nervous. That didn't mean he was going to back down. He stared right back as he took a seat across from her. She sighed when she realised he wasn't going to back down. Her eyes dropped to thee file on her desk and he recognised it as Morgan's. It was open to the front page and he felt a pull on his heart when he saw DECEASED stamped across his photo in a bold red. It reminded him too much of blood. His mind flashed back to when he had been called to identify Morgan's body. The chill that had run down his body as he walked down to the morgue chased him now as he repeated the action. He saw the strange look Strauss sent him at his behaviour and cleared his throat. That was not a conversation he was willing to have with her. With anyone to be honest.

"Aaron, I need to know what your team is doing in relation to Special Agent Morgan's supposed undercover assignment."

He frowned. Supposed? What did that mean?

"Special Agent Morgan is alive and has been undercover this entire time. He was undercover before he died. The CIA approached him a few months before he supposedly died in that crash. That's what the files we were given says and since Morgan just rang and spoke to me I'm inclined to agree with them. My team and I are currently trying to find Agent Morgan as he was kidnapped while talking to me."

He couldn't help the tightening of his voice as he spoke or the way his hands clenched up. He was resisting the urge to scream and rant, anything to get rid of the emotions he was feeling. The pain, the worry, the fear. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He was supposed to always be in control.

Right now he had no way of knowing what they were putting Morgan through but every instinct in him was screaming at him to find him now before it was too late. He knew that torture had a way of changing a person. With everything Morgan had already been through in his life, he didn't need this added to it.

"Look. I know it's hard to lose a member and I have been pushing you to replace Agent Morgan but I just got off the phone with the director of the CIA."

She paused, trying to find the right way to say the worse news she could ever give a team leader.

"He has never even heard of Agent Morgan or any undercover operation run by Agent Johnson. Agent Johnson works in the cyber terrorism unit. He wouldn't be working on something like this either. I'm sorry Aaron, but Derek hasn't been undercover. Whoever it was that called you, it wasn't him. He's dead."

Hotchner didn't move, his mind trying to process what had just been said. Already his mind began arguing over the possibility. If what she said was true –and he had no reason to doubt her- who had called him?

* * *

**So there you go! That's my latest chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you thought. I would love some feedback and once again I am so sorry about the delay**


End file.
